This isn’t a bad idea.
Emeline nods, granting me permission. “I hate this for our son.”
“As do I. Will you prepare what we need?” I ask her.
“Skarth—” she gently protests, not happy that I wish to speak to Loki alone.
I cup her beautiful face into my palms. We have been through so much. I never anticipated what was fated for us the moment our paths crossed. Whatever the gods have destined for me, I accept because I have found my true love. We’ve lived and loved, and if this is the end, then I do not want her to know. She will be too busy worrying about my safety to forfeit her own, putting England in danger.
I won’t allow it.
“My love, please let me do this.”
She wrestles with herself, but eventually nods, sensing this is something I must do.
I place a tender kiss on her soft lips. “We face our fate today. I love you. In this lifetime and the next.”
Her eyes fill with tears. “Ég elska þig svo mikið. Þú ert líf mitt.”
Whenever she speaks Norse, my heart swells and feels as if it’ll burst from my chest. “You are my world too.”
And with that, I leave her to prepare us for battle as I find Loki.
I can understand why Christians find sanctuary in this place. It’s peaceful. And a sense of calm befalls us. Brothers are dealing with the aftermath of a war they did not want. We don’t speak. I quietly walk the halls and find my sons in the gardens.
Sune is practicing his swordsmanship. I see a determined warrior. I also see someone with a dangerous rage. He doesn’t stop charging at his invisible opponent, swinging and delivering fatal blows.
“Hello, son,” I say, but am ignored.
Loki sits dead center in the rose garden. He closely examines a ladybug that lazily crawls along his curled fingers.
“Hello, Father,” he greets me without looking my way.
“Morning, my son. How fare thee?”
“I am rested but fatigued from last night. I dreamed of today.”
“And what did you dream?”
“You come to me for answers, but you know them, Father,” he says, releasing the ladybug and watching as she takes flight.
“What do I know, son?” I inquire, coming to a crouch before him.
He is such a beautiful child. His energy is pure; half Saxon, half Dane. He truly is a miracle. The gods chose him, and he will carry my legacy when I’m nothing but a memory.
“Today, you will meet the gods. Both Saxon and Dane, for you to choose. Both welcome you, for you have fought for both. But you’re tired, Father.” He gets onto his knees and places a tiny hand on my cheek. “It’s time to rest. For love will save you and…you will save love.”
“You speak in riddles.”
“No, Father, I speak through the gods’ eyes. Valhalla or heaven. This is what they see. Heaven is where Mother is destined. But your fate is undecided.”
Loki looks through me in a sense. The most incredible thing to witness.
“I go where your mother goes.”
Loki smiles. “That is why the gods will not be angered if you choose heaven. But you will have to wait a very long time for Mother.”
“I’ll wait an eternity for her. If this is what the gods want, let us fill these moments with memories you keep to remember me by. I am so proud of you. You are a miracle. A gift from the gods. You are part Saxon, part Dane. Your heart and blood are pure. But a warrior’s blood courses through your veins.
